Reason Enough
by Chibi Animagus
Summary: HGSS Hermione has more problems than she knows what to do with, and a summer detention only adds one more. A little pensieve, and the havoc is complete!
1. A Promising Summer

The summer holidays, for Hermione Granger, at least, were dull and monotonous. When she wasn't absorbed in her schoolwork, she was glued to a chair in the library, poring- rather obsessively- over volumes of Muggle science, ancient literature, and history. Hermione had had the decency to send several letters by owl post to Ron and Harry, but she was met with a rather upsetting lack of responce from Harry- no doubt the Dursleys' doing- and a scribble from Ron, graciously informing her that he was doing well.  
  
Living in a Muggle neighborhood, Hermione began to feel quite disconnected indeed from the wizarding world. A large screech owl delivered the Daily Prophet every morning, but nowhere in the paper did they mention when she would hear from Harry Potter again, or see Ron Weasley. Aside from the Prophet, no one bothered to keep her informed.  
  
Hermione was sure they had their reasons, and so witheld any potential complaints or requests to be enlightened, though slightly grudgingly. She was just beginning to think she knew how Harry had felt the summer before last, when she heard a tap on the window one morning during breakfast.  
  
To Hermione's great relief, she saw a small, fluffy owl flapping his wings feverishly, trying very hard to look capable of carrying the scroll of parchment in his tiny beak.  
  
"Pigwidgeon!"  
  
Hurriedly, she threw open the window, and the owl spit out the parchment into her hands and flew around the room, twittering proudly. Crookshanks made an irritated noise from under the table.

_Dear Hermione, _

_Sorry I haven't been writing lately, loads of stuff going on. Listen, I heard Moody talking to McGonagall, and I think they're bringing you here really soon. I hope you're not mad at me. Oh, and Harry's not here. I don't think he's coming for a while... Have you heard from him? I haven't. I sent him a letter asking how he was, and Pig came back without a letter, looking really upset about something.  
_  
Hermione spotted Pigwidgeon bouncing around on the light fixture, and wondered if it were possible for him to not look upset.

_Well, anyways, Fred and George are here, strutting about the house with their fancy clothes like they're something else, but at least they know when to shut up. Mum got a letter from Percy. Yesterday. I don't know what it said, but she's been crying all day. He thinks he's so great... I was sure that when Fudge pardoned Dumbledore... anyways, Mum's yelling about something now. And crying. So I think I'd better go. See you soon, I hope!  
  
Love, Ron_Hermione was about to fetch her quill and write a reply, when a large barn owl swooped inside in a flurry of dusty-colored feathers. It stuck out it's leg calmly, differentiating itself between the fuzzball whizzing overhead, and Hermione hurriedly untied the parchment and laid it out on the table._Dear Hermione, _

_It has been requested that you be escorted as soon as possible to Headquarters. Send return owl immediately stating that your parents have either given permission- or witheld it- for you to spend the remainder of the holidays here. If your parents agree, we'll come for you as soon as we get your response. Hope to see you soon.  
  
Remus J. Lupin  
_

Hermione grinned, and sent Pigwidgeon on his way after scribbling a quick note to Ron. The barn owl looked at her expectantly, so she ran upstairs to consult the matter with her parents, before sending the barn owl out the window in the general direction of London; more specifically, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.  
  
Summer was beginning to seem a bit more promising, Hermione thought with a smile as she watched the barn owl grow smaller and smaller and finally disappear. 


	2. A Revelation and an Awkward Meeting

The days at Grimmauld Place were awkward and slow. As Ginny was at the Lovegood's summer home, and Fred and George spent most of the day in Diagon Alley, Hermione was left alone with Ron for hours at a time. At least she had the memory of Tonks, Lupin, and Mad-Eye Moody in her sitting room, and the odd looks her parents exchanged behind their backs, to talk about. Ron said he wished he had been there to witness it.  
  
So far, Hermione's stay had been slightly enjoyable, if not entirely relaxing. There was something about the way the Order members carried on as usual that brought Hermione back two years, to the summer of her fifth year. Harry had been attacked by dementors, nearly been expelled, and was constantly jumping down everyone's throats. Still, she thought sadly, that was nothing compared to last summer. She and Ron had hardly seen Harry aside from mealtimes- he locked himself in Buckbeak's room and refused to speak to anyone. Once they'd gotten outside Grimmauld Place, he was less antisocial, but Harry Potter was certainly not the same person.  
  
Ron, too, had changed over the years, though in a different way than The Boy Who Lived. Hermione guessed it had something to do with the fact that they were entering their seventh and last year at Hogwarts- and Ron was running out of time to confess his feelings for her. Though Hermione had a feeling Ron thought he was being quite inconspicuous indeed, she did put two and two together when Ron had started putting an arm around her, and trying to hold her hand. Lupin had not called her the smartest witch of her age for nothing. Hermione heaved a sigh. She just wished she could think of a way to make Ron stop flirting with her without hurting his feelings.  
  
Hermione blinked. Since when had she decided she didn't want Ron to flirt with her? Oh course, she'd always felt awkward and- honestly- quite uncomfortable, but for several years she'd fancied Ron. It wasn't as if there was anyone else in the picture- and Ron was really nice, he really was. So why, now, could she find nothing left of the schoolgirl crush she'd held on to for six years?  
  
People can always change, she reminded herself.  
  
It was simply a matter of maturity, Hermione decided. Ron could be a bit immature and impractical at times. Still, Hermione thought, frowning, he had always been that way.  
  
"Mione? Are you up here?"  
  
Ron's voice came hesitantly, and the nervousness was evident on his face, even from Hermione's distance.  
  
"I'm right here, Ron," she said, smiling to cover up her irritation.  
  
Hermione nodded to Ron to sit down, wishing she could have at least figured out her feelings before the object of her thoughts came bursting in.  
  
"Where've you been?" Ron asked, oblivious to Hermione's discomfort, "Fred stopped by with some butterbeers to tell everyone- they just won the Something Award for... something about "The Best Vomit-Inducing Candies Ever". Here, I brought one up for you."  
  
At Hermione's raised eyebrows, he added quickly, "A butterbeer, not a vomit- inducing candy..."  
  
"Thank you, Ron, I didn't hear him arrive," Hermione lied.  
  
"Well," Ron said, "Another thing- I just got an owl from Harry."  
  
Hermione choked on a rather large quantity of butterbeer, and managed to spill even more down the front of her robes.  
  
"You what?!"  
  
"Just got an owl-" Ron repeated.  
  
"-from Harry?!"  
  
"Yeah, er... he says- right here," Ron said, shoving a piece of parchment under her nose, "er... he's- alive, at least, isn't he? That's good news."  
  
Hermione read in silence, her head buzzing.

_Dear Ron, _

_How's your summer? Been having a good time at the Order? I'm sure you have. Don't act like it's such a sacrifice to be there without me. I know what's going on, anyways. Some stuff's happened here, Dudley's friends- the Polkises- got attacked by Death Eaters on their vacation in Majorca- of all places. Seems Voldemort's not so inactive after all. Can't say any more in case this is intercepted. Just that someone's been really happy and really excited here, and it's not me._

_ Say hello to Ginny, Hermione, and the rest of the Order for me. _

_Harry_

Hermione stared, and reread the letter.  
  
"The Polkises were attacked?" she mused, "There was nothing in the _Daily Prophet_ about it. And what about this? "Someone's been really happy and really excited here, and it's not me". That can only be Voldemort- oh honestly, Ron- so... whatever could he be excited about?"  
  
Ron said nothing, but looked grim.  
  
"Ron, what are you going to write back to him?"  
  
"Dunno," Ron said slowly, "Seems to have lightened up a bit, though, hasn't he? Reckon he'll speak to us this time?"  
  
"I hope so," Hermione said, looking intently at the floor, "I do wish he'd talk to us like he used to. Honestly, he's got to tell someone what's going on- Harry can't keep it all inside like he's done for the past two years. All that accomplishes is making him frustrated and cross with us for no reason."  
  
"Yeah..." Ron trailed off, taking the parchment from Hermione. His ears reddened around the edges as his hand brushed hers. Hermione stiffened, and stood up suddenly.  
  
"I need to find Crookshanks."  
  
With that hurried, lame excuse, she was out the door and down the hallway before Ron could ask any questions.  
  
Ron only sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door for quite some time after. 


	3. Complicated Thoughts

The summer holidays, for Severus Snape, at least, were dull and monotonous. He'd kept his resolution so far of staying as far as possible from all human contact. With the exception of his job, of course. After all, he reminded himself, when dealing with Albus Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, some allowances must be made.  
  
On one such venture into the outside world, he found himself knocking on the door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, _Daily Prophet_ in hand- only to find the door answered by a certain bushy-haired know-it-all that had haunted his dreams all summer.  
  
It was situations like these, Snape thought irritably, that really made him reconsider ever leaving his dungeons.  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
Just think, Severus, he told himself, one last year with that insufferable chit and it will all be over.  
  
"Well done, Miss Granger," Snape said smoothly, "I see my six hard years of teaching you has finally paid off, and you've succeeded in learning my name. Now, if you could move out of the way, I may even be able to teach you how to shut the door."  
  
The look she gave him was all but friendly, but the wretched girl moved nonetheless, shutting the door behind him.  
  
"What brings you here, Professor?"  
  
Snape sneered at her in the dim light of the hallway. Either the girl was trying to make pleasant conversation, or she was trying to gain information from him. To her disadvantage, Snape was in no mood for the former or the latter.  
  
"Nothing of your concern, Miss Granger, I bid you good day. I assure you, I am perfectly capable of finding my way to the kitchen."  
  
Snape's tone was tense and impatient, but Hermione did not miss the nasty, snide edge that was so commonly prominent in all conversations with the man. Honestly, she thought, as he swept past her, his cloak billowing behind him.  
  
Perhaps she'd imagined it, but Hermione could have sworn there was a dried bloodstain on the hem of his cloak.  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
Laying awake in bed that night, Hermione's mind was a tangled jumble of thoughts. She tried- in vain- to sort them out properly- perhaps even figure out her emotions concerning a certain Ronald Weasley- but the darkness only complicated things as she knew she should be asleep.  
  
After many long hours of thinking in circles and accomplishing nothing, Hermione accepted defeat and gave in to exhaustion.  
  
- - - - - - -  
  
A/N: Thanks to my two reviewers! I know this is starting out slow, but I'll get there, I promise. 


	4. An Unpleasant Discovery

Hermione was jolted awake by muffled voices coming from downstairs. For a moment, she was confused. It couldn't possibly by morning already- the darkness of the room said otherwise. Something was wrong.  
  
Groggily, Hermione trudged downstairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. She could hear Mrs. Weasley's worried voice over the other hushed murmurs. In fact, Molly Weasley was the only one that did not seem determined to keep quiet.  
  
"-the Crutacius Curse, Severus, how could they?! He's only a boy-"  
  
Hermione strained her ears, trying to catch some scrap of other conversation. She heard what sounded like Snape's voice, but she couldn't be sure.  
  
"It hurts exactly the same no matter how old you are."  
  
Thought it was quiet and indistinct, Hermione heard a trace of bitterness in that statement. For some reason, that stuck her as rather personal. It had sounded- almost- as if Snape would know. Unbidingly, Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for the cruel potions master, and immediately took it back.  
  
"Molly," Remus's voice came, sounding as if he hadn't caught Snape's comment, "He's all right, you heard what-"  
  
"All right? ALL RIGHT? YOU CAN'T PRETEND HE'S ALL RIGHT, REMUS! THE CRUTACIUS CURSE ON AN OPEN WOUND-"  
  
"I assure you," Snape's voice said, much more audibly than before, "that I saw- with my own eyes- that he is quite alive. He should be out of St. Mungo's by next week if all goes well."  
  
"See, Molly?" Remus said, in a hopeful attempt to calm her down, "He's fine. Harry's been through plenty of-"  
  
Hermione couldn't suppress a small gasp. Harry?! She suddenly felt cold, very cold, as if she were drowning. She felt herself march into the dim light of the kitchen. The faces swam before her, many of which she thought she recognized, but couldn't place. Everyone seemed to blend together...  
  
"What happened to Harry?"  
  
Her voice was demanding, but hollow.  
  
"Nothing that concerns you, Miss Granger."  
  
A familiar voice met her ears, edged with a dangerous hidden blade... Snape, she thought. Probably delighted that Harry was hurt...  
  
"What happened to Harry?"  
  
Hermione's voice cracked. The faces before her were suddenly looking less and less familiar.  
  
She was drowning...  
  
Someone got up from the table...  
  
She heard snatches of conversation, but couldn't understand...  
  
"-is her friend, Severus-"  
  
"-obviously in a right state-"  
  
"-won't do, Remus, but-"  
  
She was falling...  
  
"-had enough for one night-"  
  
"Molly, don't be ridiculous-"  
  
All she could see was darkness...  
  
She heard a ringing in her ears...  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"-for heaven's sake-"  
  
Someone was carrying her... where she was going, she had no idea...  
  
Her head hit the pillow and she was asleep once more. 


	5. A Step Too Far

Sunlight poured through the cracked windowpane, drenching the room in a golden glow. Hermione felt very warm and comfortable, and thought lazily of returning to sleep. Stretching luxuriously under the clean, white sheets, she tucked a golden brown strand of hair behind her ear before turning over on her side.  
  
How nice it was to be back at Grimmauld Place, she thought. Then, as if recieving an electric shock, the events of the past night came crashing home. Hermione sat bolt upright, her peaceful morning shattered. There was only one thing for it- she had to find out what had really happened.  
  
Hermione hastily threw on a t-shirt and jeans and bounded into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was there, along with Tonks, Lupin, and- to her horror- Snape. She was suddenly quite aware of the flyaway strands of brown hair now that she was being stared at- rather rudely indeed.  
  
Snape looked as if he was just about to leave. With a sneer, he turned on his heel and left the kitchen without another word. Hermione was not about to give up so easily. Ignoring the stares of the other three at the kitchen table, she sprinted down the front hallway, past the house-elf heads mounted on the walls, and skidded to a halt in front of the door. Hermione put her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes fearlessly at the potions professor, as if daring him to try to get through.  
  
"Miss Granger," Snape hissed, looking quite vicious, "Get out of the way."  
  
"No," Hermione said defiantly, matching his glare for every ounce of anger.  
  
"Excuse me? I believe I told you to move. Now." Snape's said, his eyes glinting dangerously, "Or it will be detention."  
  
"What's happened to Harry?"  
  
Hermione was quite confident that she had nothing to fear. After all, it was the summer holidays. Snape had no power whatsoever over her. She had to admit, though, it looked as though she'd went a step too far.  
  
"Detention, Granger," Snape said softly, his lip curling maliciously, "In my office this evening. Yes, at Hogwarts. I have a fireplace connected to the Floo Network. Six o' clock."  
  
And with a sweep of his black cloak, Snape pushed past Hermione, who- for once- was at quite a loss for words. He stepped outside, looking out of place in the sunshine.  
  
"Do not be late."  
  
Hermione slammed the door behind him, positively fuming.

_Damn that bloody Snape..._


	6. Dread

Perhaps it was the horror-struck expression on Ron's face when she'd told him of her detention, or Fred and George's indignation, but Hermione had a feeling that the dread she was experiencing originated from Snape himself. If she was guessing correctly, the potions professor's patience was even shorter than usual. An incredible feat, she thought, as she hadn't thought it possible.  
  
Hermione smiled grimly, blowing a strand of curled brown hair off her face, and shifted her position on the window seat. She sighed, and paused a moment to enjoy the weather, which had changed drastically since the morning. Clouds had invaded the pristine blue sky, and it was dark and rainy before breakfast was over. Fred and George said it was Snape's fault.  
  
Big, fat raindrops rolled down the windowpane lazily. Hermione felt rather jealous- today, she jumped whenever someone said her name. Ron said she was only nervous. With good reason, Hermione thought. Snape was likely to make her do something terribly nasty in the mood he was in. Perhaps the rain cheered him up. Honestly, the man was rather depressing. As Hermione shut her thick book (_Magical Creatures of Ireland_, by Finnegan Spryte), she wondered what made him so horrible.  
  
There had to be some reason, Hermione thought. After all, a person isn't horrid from birth. Harry's cousin Dudley was horrible, of course, because his parents spoiled him and made him so. The more she thought about it, the more Hermione became convinced that parentage was an important factor. All the horrid people she knew had been raised that way: Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle... even Tom Riddle himself. Hermione frowned. She also knew some people who'd had evil parents and still turned out nicely. Sirius Black had come from a prestigious pureblood family immersed in the Dark Arts. There must be something else, she told herself.  
  
As she gazed at the rain-streaked windowpane, Hermione felt another pang of sympathy for the potions professor. Ten minutes passed as she became caught up in the gentle sounds of the rain on the window and roof, not thinking about anything in particular. The sky had darkened considerably since dinner...  
  
Hermione jumped up suddenly, book and rain forgotten. She glanced at her watch, and her stomach plummeted. Five minutes to six. In a panic, Hermione stuffed the pillows back in their proper places, dashed out the door, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley and Lupin were there to see her off.  
  
"We were beginning to think you'd forgotten, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, handing Hermione a flowerpot, "I do hope your detention isn't too-"  
  
Lupin, seeing the time on the ancient grandfather clock behind Mrs. Weasley, interrupted.  
  
"Hermione, don't worry," he said, "If Snape is harsh, it's just because he's had a hard week, don't take it personally."  
  
He smiled at Hermione, and although she knew very well Snape meant everything personally, she felt a little better.  
  
"Thank you, sir, good-bye everyone," she said, taking a pinch of powder out of the flowerpot, "I don't know when he'll let me out, but I'll be back as soon as I possibly can. Tell Ron I said good-bye!"  
  
"Good luck, dear!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled, too, and Hermione threw the powder into the fireplace. At once, emerald-green flames sprung up.  
  
"What do I say?"  
  
Hermione looked at Lupin.  
  
"Say his name, and step in. I'm sure his fireplace is connected," Lupin said, "Good luck, Hermione." 


	7. Summer Detention with Snape

"Professor Severus Snape!"  
  
With that, she stepped into the flames. They were slightly warm, and Hermione felt heartened. It was only a detention, after all. Then she was spinning endlessly, fireplaces whizzing past, the soot blinding her.  
  
Hermione was thrown to a cold stone floor when she stopped spinning. Her arm was pinned painfully under her, and her nose throbbed from being landed on. She got up gingerly, her hair flying every which way, and reached up to feel her nose. It was slightly numb, and her hand came away bloody.  
  
"Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione suppresed the urge to roll her eyes as she whirled around to face him.  
  
"Professor."  
  
"Get off the rug, I don't want blood all over it."  
  
Snape had an expression of loathing on his face, and she thought angrily of how his underlying tone had implied he thought her to be worthless. Scum. Filth. Some pureblood wizards- such as himself, no doubt- would call her a Mudblood. The nastiest thing one wizard could call another.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Hermione tried to keep the hurt out of her voice. Snape muttered a healing spell, and she felt her nose repair itself.  
  
"I just recieved a new shipment of potion ingredients this morning," he said, staring at Hermione with distaste, "There is a list on my desk of where they should be kept. I trust you are familiar with the names of basic potions ingredients, and will not have as much trouble in that area as you have in holding your tongue. When you have finished, I will inspect your work to make sure it is up to my... standards. Now, I have some pressing matters to attend to. See that you do not break anything, and that you do not touch anything you do not need to."  
  
With that, Snape swept out of the room, and closed the door without a backwards glance. Hermione frowned. She'd been here only once before, when she had stolen a boomslang skin in her second year. Snape had no idea it was her, and she wasn't about to tell him. He had so wished to believe it was Harry... but there was something else bothering Hermione. Snape had left her alone in his office. Definitely uncharacteristic of him, she thought, and displaying a rather large amount of trust. Obviously, he thought her to be trustworthy.  
  
_Or perhaps he thinks me too innocent to steal anything or nose around in his affairs._  
  
It was that last thought that drew Hermione's attention to a blue light filtering in through a crack in one of Snape's desk drawers. She wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it was some Dark object from his Death Eater days. But Dumbledore trusted Professor Snape, Hermione chided herself, so she did as well. That did nothing to quench her curiosity, however.  
  
Hermione glanced at the door, then crept over to the drawer. She laid a shaking hand on the carved brass handle, and gave a slight pull. The drawer opened with ease, and Hermione saw, to her confusion, a large stone bowl. Inside the bowl was a glowing, blue substance that looked to be both gas and liquid. It was swirling slowly, like a small storm, and Hermione got the feeling that this bowl was highly significant- something she should definitely not see.  
  
_All the more reason to find out what it is._  
  
Hermione was surprised at herself. Perhaps her streak of mischieviousness came from hanging around Harry and Ron too often. Suddenly, the blue clouds parted inside the bowl, and she found herself staring down at a circle of hooded figures, as if they had shrunk and fit inside the bowl. One man walked around the circle slowly, then looked up at her. To Hermione's shock, he had red eyes, with slits for pupils...  
  
Hermione's elbow slipped on the edge of the drawer in surprise, and her hand made contact with the substance in the bowl. She felt herself being pulled in, yanked... She tumbled through space until she found herself face- to-face with Lord Voldemort. 


	8. Snape's Pensieve

A/N: Thanks so much to my... ten reviewers! You really made me feel special! This is my first Hermione/Snape fic, and I assure you, it will be Hermione/Snape, even though it's looking pretty unlikely from here. Bear with me. Oh, and to my last reviewer (the one from France), I'll be sure to check it out. Thanks again to everyone! Oh, and if you've noticed, I made this chapter look more special... and it's a lot longer cuz I thought it all went together better that way...

Disclaimer: Oh crap, I forgot about these... I dun own them. Heheh, I wish I owned Snape tho...

- - - - - - - -

Reason Enough

by Chibi Animagus

Hermione could only hold her breath, frozen in fear, standing before the most evil wizard in the world. He was every bit as terrifying and intimidating as Harry had said... She had seen him before, a few times, but never before had Hermione stood this close to Lord Voldemort, nor was she ever hoping to.

"Well, well, well..." the Dark Lord looked around at his circle of followers, "My true family has grown in number since we last met."

Voldemort paused to let this sink in. Sure enough, there was hushed murmuring throughout the circle of hooded figures, some of disbelief, some of polite interest. Hermione frowned, and her heart's frantic beating slowed considerably. It seemed that Voldemort couldn't see her. Hermione was just about to wonder if she were invisible, when-

"Yes... a young wizard has joined us. A bit... inexperienced, perhaps, but that we can deal with, can we not, Severus?"

Hermione's stomach lurched. The murmuring turned to loud whispers. The voice of Lucius Malfoy could be heard telling a cloaked man that he knew Snape would join them some day. Then it hit her. She was inside one of Snape's memories.

"Yes, my Lord. You can deal with- with anything, Great Lord."

Snape's voice could be heard from under a black cloak, the nervousness evident in his hurried statement. Some of the Death Eaters around them laughed.

"See, my followers?" Voldemort said, looking smug and amused, "He is learning quickly... but I think young Severus needs another lesson before he recieves the Dark Mark... don't you, Lucius?"

The aforementioned Death Eater suddenly stood up straighter, and Hermione could see him visibly shaken at being spoken to directly by the Dark Lord. Hermione could tell that Lucius had not been long in Voldemort's service, and that whatever lesson Voldemort would teach Snape was definitely nothing good.

"Er, y-yes, My Lord," Malfoy stammered, "every Death Eater must learn what it is like... As you are the Great Lord, you must teach him that being a Death Eater comes with great price."

Voldemort's thin white lips quirked up in a cruel sneer as he regarded Malfoy with distaste.

"Are you suggesting that you know what I should do, Lucius?"

Malfoy was quick to right himself, realizing his mistake was grave indeed.

"Of course not, My Lord, only you know such things. I was only suggesting you-"

"Yes," Voldemort said, "It is better when you hold your tongue, Lucius. It is much too small in that oversized head of yours. I am letting you get away with it this once, and only because I am short on time."

Malfoy dropped to his knees at Voldemort's feet and murmured a humble thanks, while the figure Hermione was sure was Snape was shaking uncontrollably. Hermione couldn't help it- she felt bad for him.

"Severus, our new member... have you ever suffered the Crutacius Curse before?"

Voldemort asked this as one would inquire about the weather. Snape shook harder. Malfoy resumed his position on the circle.

"Yes, My Lord, I have."

Hermione didn't even try to suppress her sympathy now.

"Well then," Voldemort said as he raised his wand, "I'm sure a couple more times couldn't hurt... or could it? We shall see, shall we, Severus?"

Snape threw himself on the ground before Voldemort's feet, on the spot Malfoy had been a minute before, and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. As he did so, his hood fell back to reveal curtains of greasy hair, a hooked nose, and cold black eyes. Hermione's stomach lurched again. Snape looked as if he had just turned eighteen.

"Please, My Lord, please," Snape said, a frantic edge in his voice instead of a sarcastic one, "I beg you for mercy. You know I will always be faithful, always be trustworthy, I will not-"

"Get up," Voldemort said, a cruel pleasure creeping into his snake-like features, "You will be taught a lesson, Severus. Crucio!"

Hermione gasped as Snape began writhing on the ground, sobbing. He rocked back and forth on the damp grass, his hair wet from the dew and his own sweat. Voldemort's eyes were intense- ablaze with hate and anger, focused on only one thing: causing Snape as much pain as possible.

"Stop! Stop it!" Hermione shrieked, though she knew they couldn't hear her.

She couldn't bear to see Snape so helpless. Perhaps it was because he was always so confident, so capable... Or maybe just because she knew, now, that Snape had reason enough to be horrible.

Snape's screaming subsided as Voldemort lifted his wand lazily. Snape twitched on the ground, panting and sobbing still.

"You didn't like that, did you, Severus?" Voldemort said softly.

"No, Great Lord, I beg you, I have learned! I have learned! Please-"

"Crucio!"

Snape's screams echoed through the night. It was a wonder they didn't wake someone- anyone. Hermione felt something wet drip down her neck, and was confused until she realized she was crying. They couldn't do this to him... Snape... the potions professor whom everyone hated- mostly because he hated them first. Never did Hermione stop to really understand how awful the Death Eater meetings must be for him... until now, of course.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as Snape screamed even louder still. She couldn't bear to see anymore... but the image of Voldemort's cruel sneer stayed, permanently fixed in her mind along with the huddled, sobbing bundle of robes that was her potions professor.

Suddenly, she felt herself shifting, spinning.

She opened her eyes. A different memory.

The Death Eaters were in a circle again, but this time it was not Snape in the middle. A little girl- no older than six years old- was crying softly in the center. Voldemort prowled around the circle, seemingly ignoring the child.

"You, Lucius?" Voldemort said, eyeing one man disdainfully.

"Please, My Lord, I brought her-"

"Silence!" Voldemort said, cutting him off, "You had your turn last time, Malfoy. Time to give Severus a turn, wouldn't you agree?"

There was nothing Malfoy could do but agree with him, bowing and murmuring- if rather reluctantly. What the Death Eaters were planning to do, Hermione had no idea, but she didn't want to find out. That much she knew.

"My Lord, I couldn't, I am not worthy-" Snape said.

"Or too cowardly, perhaps?" Voldemort said softly, his red eyes gleaming.

Snape did indeed sound too cowardly. Obviously he was not all evil.

"No, My Lord, never, I'd do anything to serve you, anything to please you-"

But a murmur had whipped through the circle, no doubt in agreeance with the Dark Lord. Snape had no choice. Hermione suddenly felt sick. She began whispering desperately under her breath, knowing no one could hear.

"Please don't, Snape, please don't..."

"Well then, Severus, carry on," Voldemort said, stepping back a bit to allow Snape room.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, willed herself to move again. A different memory... without Death Eaters... or Voldemort...

To her great relief, she felt herself shifting, spinning.

When she opened her eyes, another wave of relief crashed home. Instead of a dark graveyard, she was in the Great Hall, but instead of the usual house tables, there were many tables for one.

Thank goodness! This must be an ordinary memory at last.

Hermione caught sight of a teenage Snape among the others. She glanced at the paper under his greasy, hooked nose.

An O.W.L, by the looks of it...

A Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L...

- - - - - - -

A/N: Omigosh, it's not Charms, its DADA! XD Stupid me. I reread that whole chapter yesterday and was like "aw crap". A reviewer pointed it out, too, so I had a feeling I'd better change that snappish. XX Sorries.


	9. Snape's Worst Memory

A/N: Whoa, sorry it's been so long. I had forgotten about this, but I just ran into it again and I'm starting it back up. Updates probably once a week, or sooner. Thanks.

---------------------------

Hermione bit her lip as she saw the teenage Snape, wondering idly if the real Snape would return to his office to check on her. He had seemed rather preoccupied, she decided, as did the one before her. Hermione couldn't help admiring his exam paper; Snape had much more parchment than his neighbors, and had crammed his writing together so he could fit in as much information as possible. _So I'm a know-it-all, then?_ she thought with a huff.

Then Hermione caught a glimpse of a peaky brown-haired boy at another table. She gasped. Professor Lupin! She wished she could talk to him, but knew from the previous scenes that he wouldn't hear her. Hermione scrutinized the rest of the room. She couldn't help the violent feeling that rose in her chest when her gaze fell upon a mousy, watery-eyed boy that was scribbling frantically and sneaking glances at other's papers. She frowned at him in disapproval. Cheating on an O.W.L., of all things! Honestly!

Suddenly, the papers flew to the front of the Hall, knocking poor Professor Flitwick over. Chairs were pushed back and the test takers got up and left the Great Hall. Snape finished, and left his table with jerky, odd movements. Hermione tried to find Professor Lupin again, but he had disappeared. She followed Snape out of the Great Hall and into the sunshine.

Hermione frowned again as she saw clumps of students congregating at sporadic distances on the lawn, only some with books. Snape did not seem to belong to a clump, but made his lonely way to a bush near the lake. He sat down in the shade, seeming to try to retreat into it. He still had the questions in his hand, and his eyes darted back and forth as he checked his answers. His mouth formed silent words as he read. Hermione smiled, thinking of Harry and Ron's reactions when she had insisted going over their exam answers after they had finished.

Looking around, she was pleasantly surprised to see Lupin sitting below a tree, reading a book that appeared to be Transfiguration. There was Wormtail, cheering and applauding a--

Her mouth fell open. It couldn't possibly be Harry, she thought, as she ran across the lawn. She stopped several feet from the tree. He looked exactly like Harry, she thought with a chill. _James Potter… Harry's father._ The boy was playing with a Golden Snitch, something Hermione was quite certain he was not allowed to do. On further examination, she noted that this boy's nose was different… and he had brown eyes instead of Harry's haunting green ones…

"Put that away before Peter wets himself from excitement." A bored yet irritated voice came from behind the tree. Hermione shifted to get a look at him-- and gasped. A handsome face, framed by elegant, jet-black hair peered back at her. His eyes were sparkling and full of life, much unlike the hollow, dead eyes she had remembered. Yet there was no mistaking Sirius Black. Her throat tightened as she thought of what Harry would give to see this man again-- and before Azkaban had brought sorrow to his features.

Hermione suddenly felt uncomfortable, and made her way back to where Snape was sitting. Still immersed in his paper. She thought suddenly that she really should be getting back. She'd had her fun, but if the real Snape caught her…

The teenage Snape got up, silencing her thoughts, and started to make his way across the lawn. As they neared the tree where Harry's father sat, however, she heard a delighted snicker.

"Snivellus!"

Snape whirled around and whipped out his wand with incredible speed, but it was too late.

"Expelliarmus!"

His wand landed a good twelve feet behind him. Hermione crossed her arms and frowned. This could not be good. To her surprise, it was James who held a wand out threateningly in Snape's direction.

"Impedimenta!"

Hermione felt numb as Snape let out a stream of curses, his eyes focused with intense loathing on Harry's father.

"Wash out your mouth, Snivellus!" James taunted. Soap bubbles foamed from Snape's mouth, choking him.

"Leave him ALONE!"

A girl with blazing red hair marched across the lawn, furious. Hermione felt a jolt as she recognized her haunting green eyes…

"All right, Evans?" James was suddenly pleasant and charismatic, but the girl that could only be Harry's mother looked ready to shove James into the lake. Hermione began to feel sick. She shouldn't be seeing this. These were Harry's parents… She backed away from the scene, slowly at first, then tripped and fell on her bum in the grass.

"Bring me home!" Hermione whispered to no one in particular, and with a sinking feeling realized she had no idea how to return to Snape's office. She watched in horror as the stringy teenage Snape suddenly hung upside down in the tree, his robes falling off, over his head.

"Oh Merlin," she whispered. There was a crowd now. James and Sirius were laughing, along with many others. "Stop… Please, stop…"

She buried her head in her hands. She couldn't bear to watch any more. "Oh Harry…"

"Well, well…" a nasty, all-too-familiar voice sounded behind her. Hermione jumped, and gave a squeak of fear. Behind her was Professor Snape, white and shaking as much as she was.

"Thought it would be fun to snoop around, did you?" He grabbed Hermione roughly, and soon they were spinning, spinning, and landed back in Snape's office, the bowl glowing innocently inside the drawer once again. Hermione couldn't help but feel frightened of Snape, who looked furious enough to use a curse whose use would send him to Azkaban.

"Sir, I--"

"But of course!" he said, panting, his face much too close to hers now, "Let's see what greasy old Snape has in his head. We can all laugh about it… us brainless, egotistical, moronic Gryffindors. We all hate him anyways, it's enough that he exists."

The room fell completely silent as Snape's bitter words hit. Hermione ignored the tears coursing down her cheeks. There was only one thing she could think of to do.

Hermione sniffled, and threw her arms around him.


End file.
